Distressing Gifts
by Meandrina
Summary: Just a short funny one-shot. Please read and review!


**Oneshot. Dramione. Hope you like it!**

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><p>The first time she catches him in her room, she screams. He looks at her, chuckles, and continues rifling through her belongings.<p>

"Get out of my room!"

"Oh, don't be such a priss. Here, have a seat." He indicates towards the bed. Her _own _bloody bed.

"Malfoy. You have exactly three seconds to make yourself scarce. _One." _She pulls out her wand.

He snorts, and opens another drawer. There's a rough clanking sound as he rummages through her personal stuff with his ferret paws.

"Tw—PUT THAT DOWN!"

"Hmm—Granger, I never quite took you for a Quidditch enthusiast. What purpose does this serve in your dormitory?"

He's holding her Snitch, and she swears her fingers twitch with the desire to claw his brains out.

"Just—how did you get in?!"

He stares at her like she's sprouted another head.

"Password."

"And _how _did you learn my password?"

"You're not exactly the mistress of subtlety that you imagine yourself to be, Granger. Last time I heard it, you'd been shouting it at the door."

She remembers now. Last week they'd had a blazing row about the detention chart for the first years and she recalls them shouting some very vile stuff at each other. She might have accidentally slipped out her password too.

She groans at her carelessness.

"So, why do you keep this junk around? Are you collecting Quidditch gear, a pathetic attempt to brush up on your knowledge of the sport?"

"It was a gift." She grits out. "Now, please. Get out."

"_Gift_? They must be mental_. _Didn't you tell them that you can't tell a Quaffle from a Snitch?"

He juggles it from one palm to another.

"So, really. Who?"

"Who what?"

"Who was the idiot to gift you _this?"_

"That's none of your sodding business." She reaches for the Snitch in his hand. "And give that to me!"

He withdraws his arm, and puts it behind his back.

"Ah ah. Not until you tell me."

"Oh, don't be such a ferret. Give it back!"

He shakes his head, and raises his eyebrows.

"Ugh. Victor."

His face turns blank in the blink of an eye.

"Victor _Krum?"_

She rolls her eyes. "Yes."

He continues to stare at her, all humour gone from his face. He pulls out the Snitch and stares hard at it.

When he finally looks up, his eyes are flashing.

"What's so special about it?"

Something about the tone of his voice makes her defensive, so she answers him instead of telling him to piss off.

"It's the first snitch that he caught. He gave it to me in the fourth year."

He's sneering now, and his jaw is working with visible irritation.

"How precious."

He flings it back inside the drawer and closes it with an audible bang, before swiftly walking out of her room.

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><p>She finds him seated in the common room the next day. He smirks when he sees her walk in.<p>

"Hello, mudblood."

She ignores him, as per usual, and continues towards her own room.

"Hey, beaver head!"

_Godfuckindammit—_she absolutely _hates _that name.

"What?!"

"Just wondering how your day's been."

"Fine."

She turns around and heads towards her door again.

"Oy!"

She whirls around, fully intending to slap his wits out but something stops her short.

He takes in the direction of her gaze and smirks wider.

"Malfoy, you've got something—"

She looks at the weird looking bulge in his breast pocket, and for a fleeting second she imagines that he must have grown a boob, but subsequent examination leads her to think that it's a piece of cloth, a handkerchief maybe. Except that it's shaped far too strangely.

"What's _that?"_ She points at his chest.

"Oh, this?" He looks down, and pulls out the offending piece of cloth with an elaborate swish.

It's a pair of knickers. Red, lacy girl knickers.

She folds her arms, and gives him a look of utter disgust. He might have the brains with a consistency identical to Swiss cheese, but he'd always been popular among the witches.

"You're such a vile arse, Malfoy."

"Well, don't you want to know who these belong to?"

"No. I really don't."

"Huh. I'll tell you anyway. This _luscious _piece of clothing belongs to none other than Fleur Delacour."

There is a brief pause, where he waits for the information to sink in. When it does, she throws her head back and laughs.

He tilts his head and watches her, willing for her to finish.

"Merlin, ferret! Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I don't expect one damn thing. Believe what you want, it won't stop it from being true."

"Hmm. Even if it _did _belong to Fleur, that still doesn't prove anything. For all I know, you could have stolen them. Or maybe you actually begged her. Do you collect _knickers, _Malfoy?"

He re-pockets them.

"Only the special ones. And let me tell you, the time with Fleur—was _really_ special. Part Veelas are something else between the sheets." He closes his eyes. "Savage."

She shakes her head, and heads back to her room.

After closing the door, she picks up the Snitch from her desk and turns it over in her fingers. Part of her wanted to believe him. Maybe he really _was _telling the truth.

But the bigger part, the far more logical and less insecure part of her was telling her that Draco Malfoy might just have been a teeny bit jealous.

She flings it back inside the drawer, the one she rarely opened.

So much for gifts.


End file.
